Dovekin
by Cactusgirl329
Summary: Fates and lines of destiny run thick through the blood of Skyrim. As armies collide and dragons awaken, the ground will quake when ancient prophecies come to fruition. Brittany and Santana are drawn together by the same threads that would tear them apart. Brittana. Multi-chapter. Skyrim Crossover. Mature.
1. Chapter 1

**Shout out to ****thinking-wishfully101*tumblr*.com who suggested writing a Skyrim!Brittana crossover and since I'm kinda all over the place with my fics, why not? My intention is to write this at the same time I am writing the sequel to IIAC called** **_Smooth Operator_** **. When I did this with** **_Sirens_**, **it worked really well.**

**One does not require intimate knowledge of Skyrim to read this fic as I will try not to inundate it with game specific terms. I will, however, do my very best to capture the feel and epic quality to the game and blend it with Brittana. Feel free to critique. Feel free to send me PMs or asks or even ask questions in your reviews, I do answer just about everything addressed to me! :D By now, everyone should know how much I like to talk about anything.**

**To my hardcore Skyrim/Elder Scrolls fans: I will take liberties. This is an original plotline story; therefore, it will not strictly follow the plot of the game or even be 100% accurate. The series is long and honestly, I have NOT played all the games. I do NOT know the entire history of Tamriel (there's a fuck ton!). If I get something so wrong and you feel the video game goddesses will smite me, please send me a PM and I will fix it. Other than a horrific crime against the video gaming world, please take this story for what it is - high fantasy with dragons and Brittana aka a shit ton of FUN! ;)**

**Finally, I got a few of these - yes! I did mean to write Dovekin as Dovekin. That was not a mistake. I promise! :D**

**Structure: I will post the story in groups of chapters or "quest lines" similar to how I made sections for****_IIAC_****. This will give me time to write, update, and keep cohesion through Skyrim. It also means this story will span over a longer amount of time and occasionally skip forward in time. I'm sure you'll have no trouble keeping up. ;)**

**Brittana. Multi-Chapter. M for sMut, language, violence, adult situations – implied you are mature readers.**

* * *

_**Dovekin**_

**1.1**

The wind whistled.

It brushed up against her back. It wrapped her tenderly and rustled her fur cloak before it broke around the frame of her body.

For the better part of the last three days, it had been her only companion. At times, when she had lost her way, it had gently steered her back toward her destination. As chilling as the wind could be, it had been a welcome boon. But now, as she stood where the wind had guided her, she gazed into the mouth of darkness and she wished the breeze could follow.

The instructions had been clear – she was to accomplish this task alone.

Clear blue eyes gazed back over the landscape she had just crossed. In the far distance, she could see the shadow of the mountain and despite the long days of travel, she felt as if the distance between herself and the mountain hadn't decreased. An ache settled in her chest at the view. She had a feeling no matter how far she travelled, that mountain would never leave her.

A soft whine in her ear followed by a puff of hot breath pulled her eyes away. The burly chestnut brown horse padded at the ground in agitation and impatience. He took a step forward and nuzzled his nose into her hair and whined once more. Obviously, he wasn't too pleased about where they had stopped. Brittany ran her hands down his neck and cooed to assure the horse that he was fine. _He _wouldn't be the one entering the cavern. "I guess I can't convince you to come down there with me, huh?"

The horse must have sensed the intentions of her question and whined even harder. He backed away from the ring of stones. Brittany glanced down to keep her footing. It wasn't a hard fall, only fifteen feet down, but serious injuries could happen over something much less. It would be foolish to lose her footing so close to her destination.

Her eyes lingered below. Stone steps ran around the circumference of the opening. It was as if someone had carved the stairs into the very earth. The dark stones and the engravings on the walls and door had an ominous quality. She didn't blame her horse for balking at the edge.

"I don't blame you if you don't stick around. I don't know when or if I'll be back." Brittany pulled the harness from his face and undid the straps to his saddle. She tossed his pack to the ground. The horse lingered a few seconds, but eventually he inched away before trotting off. Brittany sighed.

She shouldered the pack. Her boots hit the stone steps and echoed through the opening. Each step brought her closer to the door. By the time she could touch the carvings on the opening to the crypt, Brittany had memorized the curves and definition of lines. The intricate markings were mesmerizing. She reached out. Her gloved fingers grazed the cold stone, but she did not push forward. It wasn't the first time in the last few days she wondered how this could all be happening to her. How could this not be a dream? Could she stop now and return home?

The cool wind from the mountain blew once more against her back. Its touch was no longer a gentle suggestion, but a willful gale. It swept through her furs and crashed against the tiniest cracks in the stone until it whistled and howled. Its message was clear – there was no turning back. There was no return. Home was gone.

As the wind at her back gathered speed and force, Brittany imagined it was the strength of the wind which cracked the great doors to the crypt open. The stone groaned. The wind gained speed. Britt pressed the full force of her body weight forward until the door finally gave. The wind rushed forward. The light, which had been so bright a moment before, vanished. Brittany stilled at the threshold of the crypt. Her bright eyes tried to penetrate the dark, but it proved impossible. She lifted her left hand. A gentle glow emanated from the center of her palm. She focused on the glowing dot until it started to expand – the light stretched from her palm and ran through her finger tips until it could no longer be contained her hand. The light rose in brilliant white tendrils. They swirled around themselves over and over and over again. The light folded and folded until the folded edges softened and rounded. Finally, it formed a suspended ball of glowing energy. The warmth from the light and the release of magicka flowing through her body felt like a welcomed friend. Brittany smiled. The conjured light bounced in her palm and emitted a soft glow large enough that Brittany could now see beyond the entrance.

Unsurprisingly, it was a cave.

Brittany sighed and dropped the saddle pack next to the entrance in case she did make it back. She crouched down and rooted through its contents. The ball of light hung in the air above her head. It cast light over her frame and outlined the steel gauntlets over her wrists and the cracked leather gloves she had spent a lifetime working in. The light ran down her legs and caught hints of steel around her calves and thighs. The armor breastplate protected her upper body. Chips and dents cradled the light and showed the years of protection. The armament had been well used. She unclipped the heavy fur cloak and placed it over the pack and harness. Despite the chill in the air, it would only hinder her arm movements.

She did a quick check of her inventory: knives, pouch, herbs, a few pieces of dried venison, Eider cheese, and one small healing potion. She readjusted the straps to her belt and breastplate. Once she was certain they were secure, Brittany reached back and unloosed the tie that secured her battle axe. The oiled leather creaked as she gripped the handle. The weight felt good. The bindings eased. It was ready for easy access.

The light from the ball dimmed.

Brittany reached up once more and held it in the palm of her hand. She could have increased its light, but she didn't know if the crypt held any occupants – living or not. She kept it dim so as to only shine around her general proximity. Perhaps she could retain the element of surprise and leave without engaging any foes.

Gods knew she needed a stroke of luck. It felt like years since the gods had been on her side. She muttered a silent request to the nine hoping to be answered by at least one of them.

All she needed was one.

* * *

The dark halls of stone and earth twisted. At times, Brittany feared she would lose her way, but she trusted the old pathways to guide her. She was grateful for not wearing steel boots as the hallways already echoed and magnified every noise. She was careful to take her time – to make each step cautious and calculated. There were stories of the ancient traps and perils in the depths of these crypts. One false step could mean a guillotine in the head or an arrow in the leg.

Brittany turned the corner and kept the ball of light in her hand low to stop it from casting shadows, but another light down the new corridor caught her eye. The blonde Nord crushed the ball of light in her hand to extinguish it. She crouched low and waited for her eyes to adjust to the distant light. A warm breeze and the familiar smell of burning wood filled the air.

She was not alone.

No god saw fit to answer her prayer. Confrontation waited down the hall.

She crouched low and clung to the shadows against the wall. From here, she could see no movement or sign of life. She didn't want to take chances, especially with bandits and looters who were obviously desperate enough to brave the ancient tombs of their ancestors. As she drew closer, Brittany could see there were no bandits near the fire. In fact, their rolls, blankets, and a lone chest were unguarded. On the spit, the hind of what Brittany could only imagine was a Skeever rat, had been long forgotten. Its flesh was charred and smoked over the untended fire. She released the hold on the handle of her axe and allowed the weapon to settle on her back once more.

What happened here?

She wasn't a tracker, but she imagined the scuff marks of boots in the dirt were frantic. The heels dragged and the scattered remaining objects appeared as if they had been tossed or thrown hurriedly. Whoever camped here had left in a hurry. Brittany kicked at one of the rolls and quickly counted.

Five.

There had been at least five of them.

Not including whatever made them abandon camp.

A noise echoed through the opening beyond the site. Brittany gripped the handle of her axe, but this time she eased the blade from its bindings and drew the weapon in front of her body. The opening was the only place to move forward in the crypt. Therefore, whatever made that noise dwelled directly in her path.

Brittany conjured the small ball of light once more, but tucked it in the lip of her boot so it would create almost no light except where she stepped. She didn't want to give anyone an easy target for an arrow or a thrown knife. It also allowed her the use of both hands on her axe. Quietly, she crouched low and entered the doorway where she had heard the noise. Her stomach clenched in anticipation.

The gods had most certainly not answered her request. Avoidable or not, she was about to come in contact with a someone or a something.

Another noise echoed. Closer, Brittany could hear the sound of boots scuffing upon stone. A crash sounded further down the hallway.

The loud sharp crack of steel meeting steel rang through the darkness and ran through Brittany's body. The hair on her forearms stood straight and her heart patted faster and faster in her chest. Her two gloved hands twisted around the leather handle of her axe. The air temperature dropped. For the first time, Brittany regretted leaving her cloak. The crypt subtly changed in nature. With the little light from the tongue of her boot, Brittany could see the long rectangular cut-outs in the walls. Skeletal corpses, long past the point of decomposition, lined the walls three at a time in columns. Brittany stopped and peered into the closest cut-out. This ancestor had been dead for perhaps centuries. The bones were brittle and clung together from ancient memory rather than from the strength of sinews and muscles. A sword rested beside the prostrate body. Faded decorations hung round its neck. The sword's edge had chipped and fragmented from years of rust and sedentary life, much like its owner.

Careful not to disturb the ancestors, Brittany pulled back from the wall.

There was something wet beneath her feet. A pool of blood followed by a trail of blood. She was close now.

Another crash echoed through the hall and she remembered she wasn't alone.

Clang. Clang. Scuff. Bang. Clang.

The sounds were growing louder and closer. Brittany pressed her body against the wall where there were no tombs and peered around the corner. A lit torch in the hallway illuminated the scene. Brittany could only see the backs of three men. Weapons collided and shields lifted to turn away blows. A short sword sliced through the air and sent one of the men falling backward stunned. He held his face. Blood bubbled over his fingers as he tried to keep the skin of his cheek from flapping down where a sword had sheared off part of his face.

He yelled, in what Brittany imagined, was terrible pain. He stayed on the ground and frantically rummaged through his cloak and worn armor. Brittany watched with patient fascination as he tipped the remaining contents of a small bottle into his mouth. The bleeding from his face ebbed and slowed. He still had a nasty gash, but the wound appeared to cauterize instantly. If he survived the next few minutes, he would have a scar for the rest of his life, but he wouldn't bleed to death or lose his cheek.

A sharp whistling shot by her head as a thrown knife plunged into the cave wall only a few feet from her vantage point. Brittany paid the weapon no attention. Her bright blue eyes glanced up to find its source. Between the two remaining combatants, Brittany could now see who had sliced open the man's face.

A woman.

Dark hair flew between her opponents as a short sword and a knife cut through the space around her. After she had cut open their friend's face, these two men were wary of attacking her directly. Their purposeful distance revealed their trepidation. Their swords wavered.

Not just a woman.

Brittany felt a chill run through her body as their eyes met. Even in the heat of battle, in the dark of the crypt, and defending against an onslaught of attacks, she had spotted Brittany watching. Her eyes quickly ran through Brittany and found every weakness in her armor. She had measured the length of her axe handle and the breadth of her arm span. She had counted the amount of strides it would take to meet in the corridor and the speed an arrow from a bow would fly to kill either of them from the distance. In an instant, the woman had visually disarmed her. The axe in Brittany's hands felt heavy.

The man on the left rushed forward. He swung his weapon wildly in the air. The other, sensing the woman's attention on his friend, made a lunge for her only a moment later. Outnumbered, Brittany rose instinctively to rush to her side. The odds were against her. But the first man only made one frantic swipe before the tip of her short sword penetrated the center of his chest. The point of the blade tented the back of his leather jerkin. She had run him straight through.

He sputtered blood in one pathetic attempt to cling to life before his body dropped to the ground. The sword remained tight in his body, but its owner seemed unconcerned. She spun two daggers in her hands. A wicked smile invited her attackers to join their friend in death.

The second man didn't have time to consider her offer.

He bore no sigils on his chest before. Now, two bright red lines striped his chest. He staggered backward and glanced to the man who had hastily healed his face with the remnants of the potion. They were deciding if it was worth it. Standing against the wall, Brittany's eyes ran over the pool of blood and then back to the woman. They had no chance.

They must have sensed it too.

They inched back and kept their swords angled at her body.

They were moving in Brittany's direction.

Brittany knew she would have to make a decision to either run herself, risk an open conflict with two opposing factions, or –

Dark eyes met hers in the dark. They were asking the same questions.

- cut off the men's escape to aid this mysterious woman.

Britt twisted the leather grip of her axe and stepped out of the shadows. For the first time since she started observing the woman, her dark eyes flickered uncertain. She hadn't expected Brittany to step out. Brittany could see her counting. She would have three opponents once again. Unfortunately for her, Brittany was an unknown variable and considerably better armed than the men. Brittany could see her weighing the odds once more.

The two men must have noticed the way the woman's eyes shifted and sensed a fourth presence at their backs. They stopped their retreat and divided their attention between the two women.

"Another one?"

The man with the scarred face said nothing.

"Where are they coming from?!"

Brittany still hadn't decided what she was doing, but the other woman assessed her different. She was _not_ with the men. This changed everything.

Before any of them could make another move, an icy chill swept through the crypt. A shudder violently tore through Brittany. Only once before had her Nord blood not been resilient to the bitter cold of her homeland. The unnatural ice touched steel and armor. White spider webs of frost clung to the metal and spread up. The same expression of disbelief mirrored on the others' faces. The supernatural cold could only be produced by one kind of creature which stalked the depths of Skyrim's underground.

Bright blue orbs hovered in the air around them. They hung suspended in the darkness. Brittany only wished they would have been disembodied. Too late to run. Too late to mount a proper attack, Brittany did the only thing she possibly could. She lifted her axe and made a blind swing behind her. She shouted. "Draugr!"

Her axe bit into an old rusty blade. Two icy blue orbs glared with malice a few inches from her face. Ice frosted the edge of her axe. Even with her gloves, Brittany felt the abnormal cold transfer from the Draugr's sword down her own weapon. Her fingers stiffened and tried to resist the chill. The Draugr opened its mouth. Rotted teeth. Broken bones. Molded, crusted, and threadbare clothes. The very corpse she had examined on her way down the hallway had risen. Brittany deftly step sided and parried the Draugr's lunge and lifted her two-handed axe. The battle axe easily cleaved the Draugr's arm from its body. She completed her counter attack and separated the Draugr's head clean from his shoulders. Blood rushed through her veins. Adrenaline pumped through her body. Her breathing steadied even as her heart rate elevated. The unnatural cold of the Draugr no longer had any effect on her.

A battle cry at her back echoed the buzz and excitement coursing through every fiber of her body.

It had been the woman. She was shouting ancient calls to arms.

Brittany turned to locate her. The woman had effectively backed herself into a wall where she would be able to defend against the Dragur. The two men were fighting their way to join her.

Skeletal hands broke through rocks and closed tombs. Two more Draugr emerged from their tombs on the wall baring various weapons. Their decayed bodies bore unusual strength. If they didn't clear the corridor in the next few minutes, they would be overrun. The wall broke in front of her. Brittany heaved the axe up and chopped the waving hand off before the Draugr had fully emerged from its burial place. She rushed forward to close the distance between herself and the other three humans. Her strides lengthened.

"The Draugr are too much, Brennah, we can't stay here!" One of the men yelled. They were close to the woman and fighting a pack of Draugr haphazardly.

"I'm not leaving without it."

"Forget it! Or we're going to die with this crazy bitch."

The dark haired woman had just finished decimating another Dragur in front of her. Their bodies piled at her feet. She took two steps forward and grabbed the back of the man's head. She bunched his hair and yanked him hard. Taken by surprise, he had no chance to regain his balance.

"You were going to die anyway."

His eyes widened. He reached up, frantic to escape from the woman's grasp. He looked to his friend with the scarred face one. "Brennah! Help!"

But it was far too late.

His companion, the so-called Brennah, barely blinked as he watched the dark-haired woman cut his friend's throat with one ruthless drag of her blade. The body dropped lifeless to the ground. Her eyes lifted and she stated with certainty. "You're next."

Perhaps it was the wicked mark she had carved into his cheek or the way his eyes were cold like the Draugr, but his smile felt sinister. He shook his head in defiance. "Not by your hand, girl."

The path cleared for a moment. He took off down the corridor without hesitation. Brittany pressed her back into the wall to let him pass. She had no quarrel with either of them and unlike the woman, Brittany wasn't going to take advantage of their compromising position and cut a man down when they were under attack from a greater danger.

More Draugr were exiting their resting places and lumbering forward. They sealed the way the scarred man had taken. It would be impossible to chase after him without cutting through the rest of their ranks. The short brunette reached behind her back and withdrew her bow. She notched an arrow without delay and aimed down the corridor in Brittany's direction. Without a shield to protect herself, she lifted the broadside of her axe and angled it in front of her face and upper body.

The arrow flew harmless past her and whistled through the crowd of Draugr.

A muffled "hmpf" cried in the dark. She had threaded the arrow's flight through the Draugr and must have hit the fleeing man before he turned the corner.

Brittany dodged another broken sword swung in her direction.

There was no time to marvel at the woman's shot in the dark. Brittany widened her stance. The weight of the axe carried her swing through the Draugr's rusted chestplate and propelled her into the next opponent. Without missing a beat, she pivoted on her right leg and pulled the weapon loose. The blade splinted the Draugr's bow and rendered the weapon useless. The blonde dropped low and avoided the deadly stab of the woman's blade.

Instead of piercing Brittany's gut, it drove through a third Draugr.

Surprised, Brittany glanced up. Those dark eyes were unreadable. Had she meant to kill the Draugr or Brittany?

There was no time to ponder. Brittany knocked her axe up in the air in time to deflect the woman's second short sword. Brittany bounced back on her feet lightly and pointed the axe out. The woman did the same with her swords. Britt dared to break eye contact for a second.

Draugr littered the floor around them both. They had survived the ambush.

The danger should have passed.

But Brittany's skin still tingled and her body thrummed.

The danger was far from over.

The woman moved with lighting speed. Two bright blades flew through the cold air at the same time. Brittany barely had a chance to block the first. It glanced off the edge of her axe. She commanded a second of time to avoid the second and more deadly of the attacks from the woman's left arm. It swung deceptively low – it would be a dirty blow. Nimbly, Brittany danced back and readjusted her stance to compensate for the double blades.

Their eyes once again locked.

The flurry started once more.

Brittany had almost no time to compensate for the woman's speed to counterattack. The speed of her attacks rendered the axe useless as a weapon and served as an adequate shield at best. Her body twisted and turned away. Her feet made quick powerful steps to avoid the onslaught of swings and swipes. The sturdy axe prevented the woman's blades from penetrating Brittany more than a few times.

Brittany consciously decided to stop trying to fight her. She relaxed and allowed the motion of their sparring to take her on a ride.

Her feet lithely danced around the corpses on the floor. Every step effortless glided over the hard ground. Her body dipped and turned away from each attack with ease. A quick push turned into a side-step. She stopped watching the weapons flying at her – her attention remained completely on those dark eyes. Brittany didn't need to counter. It would have been impossible. Besides, there was something so satisfying when dancing with a skilled opponent.

The woman must have sensed Brittany's change in tactics. She glanced up. Her head cocked to the side as she waited, Brittany didn't swing or take advantage of her distracted opponent.

Brittany's unexpected behavior was enough to break her concentration. An errant limb from a dead Draugr tripped the shorter woman. She stumbled backward off balance.

Understanding this would be her only opening, Brittany lunged forward. The woman recovered quickly. She rolled away. The butt of Brittany's axe handle barely missed the woman's chin.

Their stances shifted as they once more squared off.

This time, it was the other woman who paused to reassess her sparring partner. Her tongue ran along her bottom lip. Brittany didn't know why she focused on the woman's mouth. The heat shooting through her body could have been from the fighting, but it didn't explain why she wanted the woman to lick her lips once more.

They were both panting and exhausted.

The mysterious woman's eyes sparkled with something Brittany would have considered respect, at the very least intrigue.

"You let him go." It was only the second time she had spoken and Brittany wasn't surprised to hear she still retained the low throaty quality in her voice. It felt edged with brutal honesty. The last time she spoke, she had ended the other man's life. She was dangerous. As if to further emphasize the point, the short sword in the woman's right hand bounced with every word; the point aimed straight at Brittany's throat.

Very dangerous.

"Was I supposed to stop him?" Instinctively, Brittany took a step to her right. The other woman mirrored the movement.

"It would have saved me some trouble." The short sword swayed closer to the edge of Brittany's axe.

"Trouble?" Hyper aware of the bodies at their feet, Brittany took her time with each step. "It didn't seem like trouble when you killed his companion in cold blood."

The woman threw her head back and laughed. "Cold blood? Had he found you unaware, he would have done much worse than just kill you. At least he had his weapon drawn. He could have defended himself."

Britt gritted her teeth, but couldn't fault the woman's logic. They had been in the thick of battle. "Sounds like you know him."

"I know his type." Testing, the sword drew closer to Brittany's axe. They were practically touching.

Any other time, Brittany wouldn't have allowed her opponent to get this close – not when her strikes were so quick. But something felt different.

"Would you strike me down so quickly?" Brittany countered. The grind of their weapons sounded in the air. The small vibration rippled down her arm and through her body.

The question lingered in the air. Energy rippled through their bodies and transferred from the edges of their connected weapons.

"Perhaps." She licked her bottom lip once more as she considered the question. "But…I don't know your type." She paused. Her mouth quirked to the side with an afterthought. "I doubt I could strike you down any more quickly than what I just tried."

"Then would you like to?"

"Would I like to what?" The question confused her - it was a strange request from a sparring partner. In disbelief, she sought clarification. "Strike you down?"

It was Brittany's turn to find amusement in the encounter. "No." She lifted her axe back. The pressure from the woman's sword instantly released. The tension between them lessened, but their eyes remained locked. For some reason, Brittany enjoyed the way the fierce warrior couldn't hide her confusion. Or the way she struggled to pull her own sword back. It waivered in uncertainty. "Would you like to know my type?"

She hadn't been expecting that.

It shouldn't have been a hard question. At least, it wasn't for Brittany. The embers that burned in the woman's eyes churned the question from every angle. Clearly, she had never entertained such a request before. A stubborn and skeptical streak wove through the fiber of her nature. But- it wasn't all blind obstinacy. Her eyes and body language were intelligent and calculated. Layers beyond the finely crafted armor created the sinewy exterior of a very complicated woman. That feeling; it was a feeling Brittany experienced not too long ago. It was the very same feeling that created the circumstances leading her to this dark corridor. It tingled throughout her body. Brittany waited with the appearance of patience for the woman's answer. When in reality, she desperately desired to hear her reciprocate the feeling.

Perhaps this feeling wasn't exclusive.

Her mouth opened, but this time when she spoke, her voice cracked as if she had lost an internal argument with herself. "Yes."

The single word rushed through the crypt. It felt like playing with fire.

"Brittany." In a moment of blind trust, she sheathed her axe in the straps behind her back. "Brittany, Daughter of Pierce."

Wary and distrustful to a fault, she was slow to sheath her weapons. "Santana." She held her hand out. "_Just_ Santana."

A bright smile, irrepressible in the dark cave, spread across Brittany's face as she took the woman's hand. "Santana." The name sounded foreign, but her accent was true Nord. It rolled around on her tongue. "_Just_-" Brittany teased the way the woman had made a point to omit her surname. "-Santana."

* * *

"Look, I don't mind not killing each other." Santana had taken the point. It had been two hours since she had last sheathed her swords. Brittany had stopped worrying about her attacking from the moment they exchanged hands. So it didn't bother her in the least. "But, honestly, I don't see why you're here to begin with."

This was stupid. This was how someone got killed. How could she trust an absolute stranger to guard her back? She could hear a thousand voices telling her how foolish she was for trusting in this partnership. It was pure folly. If this woman stabbed her from behind, Santana would only have herself to blame. Yet…her shoulder blades didn't pinch in discomfort or worry.

"I have my reasons." Brittany casually dismembered a corpse lining the wall as they walked past. The hacked limbs clattered to the floor and the sword it had been wielding dropped useless. Better to be safe than have another Draugr ambush. "Like I'm sure you have yours."

"They stole something from my family." Santana stated. She slashed particularly hard at a thick covering of webs which stretched the length of the hallway. They had been tracking droplets of blood through the corridors for some time. The arrow Santana had loosed during the skirmish had hit its mark. It was a flesh wound. Not enough to stop him, but enough to follow. Santana bent down and touched a semi-dried drop of blood. She stood up and took another swipe at the webs around them. "Have they stolen something from you too?"

"No. I was sent to collect an artifact deep in the crypt. I'm here because I am-" She had been called many things during her lifetime: a daughter, a woman, a lover, a fighter, a Nord, but this new title seemed too unreal to fathom. It still made her uncomfortable. Brittany muttered the word. "Dovekin."

"Dovekin?" Santana chopped at some more webbing. What in all of Tamriel was a Dovekin? It sounded like some strange cult like the Grey Fox from legend. Would-be adventurers loved taking on the names of animals for their monikers. So this Brittany wanted to be known as a flying-rat? Whatever. Santana would have chosen a more fearsome animal for her own avatar. But in an odd way, it sort of fit Brittany. She might be strange, but at least she could fight, unlike most animal-named wanderers.

Santana felt tempted to turn back to get another look at her. In fact, Brittany was nothing like the bandits she had chased down or the fighters she had come in contact with over the years. She certainly didn't wear the resistance blue of the Stormcloaks or even the domineering red of the Imperials. Without a standard on her cloak or a color to denote a faction, Brittany could have been a Companion, but they had been relatively quiet since the tensions between the Stormcloaks and the Imperials had escalated. The Companions were keeping their heads down and their necks free from the rope or the chopping blocks. It was safer to stay unaligned and in the shadows than to risk any sort of activity.

Brittany, Daughter of Pierce, Dovekin.

Santana repeated the name in her head once more, but she couldn't place her to a region or a clan. Pierce was a surname unfamiliar to her. But like Santana, they shared the same Nord dialect, if not the same accent. Curious to hear the woman talk again, Santana continued. "Do you know what kind of artifact?"

"No. I was told I would know it when I found it."

"Those are some bullshit instructions, like something from an old man in a mountain with too much time on his hands." Santana sliced through another round of webs. She was too busy batting off webs to notice the way Brittany's head cocked to the side and her cheeks flushed at Santana's sarcastic response. Santana continued. "Who's the client?"

"It's not for a client." Brittany stated softly.

Santana's arm paused in mid motion. Not a client? That ruled out the slight possibility that Brittany was a thief or even a freelance sword for hire. She glanced back.

For all the power and deadly skill Brittany Pierce, Dovekin, had displayed during their scuffle, she walked behind Santana with trustful ease. A ball of conjured light danced in the palm of her hand. Each footstep she took was done with poise and grace. Her bright blue eyes danced around the walls. Carelessly, she dropped the blade of her axe on the bodies of potential Draugr as they passed. Deadly, lithe, and utterly trusting, Brittany never stopped to check the integrity of Santana or where she was leading them. It could have been a trap, death, or a plane of Oblivion, and Santana had a feeling Brittany would have trusted her to the very end.

She was a study of contradictions; an utterly confounding mystery.

Another thick set of webs blocked their path forward and since Santana had been paying more attention to the way Brittany concentrated on the ball of light, the warrior ran straight into the sticky strings.

"By Talos's arm!" Santana whacked at the webs and yanked back to avoid getting tangled further. It was proving more difficult than before. "Where is the bloody spider nest?"

The light behind her expanded.

The webbings still clung to her arms and wrapped tight around her limbs.

The light grew wider and spread. It caught the beads of condensation in the damp underground.

Santana struggled to free her sword arm.

"Santana." Brittany whispered calmly. She threw the ball of light in the air. There was something about the way she said her name. Santana hadn't quite pinned it down yet, but she did lift her head. Brittany stood a few feet away. "I think we might be in trouble here." Both hands gripped her axe and her bright blue eyes were focused on something beyond Santana.

No, they were focused _behind_ Santana.

Santana turned.

Dozens of legs were spiraling through the mess of webs toward them.

"Brittany –" Santana's heart started to race. Adrenaline released. Her hands flexed. A wave of heat flooded her system. "—this is the first and _last_ time I'm going to ask this, but – " Santana could literally feel the vibrations from the hundreds of legs crawling down the strands of webbing toward her. They were moving across the webs so quickly, Santana's body shook up and down from the tiny tremors. Bad. This was bad. Santana attempted to wrest herself from the trap once more, but struggling had only tightened the bond from the webs to her armor and skin. By herself, she would be an easy meal for the Frostbite spiders. " – could you help m—"

Before she could finish the request, Brittany had already sliced through the thick sinews of the webs holding Santana.

The blonde flashed her a smile. "My pleasure." Santana flushed at the cocky ease in which Brittany had chopped her free from the spider's trap. "But just so you know – I think I heard noises down the hall. I think we may have some more Draugr company joining us shortly. I'll take the Draugr if you can handle the spiders."

Santana didn't have time to protest or suggest another plan of attack; Brittany turned and charged headfirst into a group of Draugr behind them. Like she had done during their fight, she bounced through attacks and flanked the first Draugr with three long strides. Her axe should have encumbered her fluid movements, but she used the weight of the weapon as a counter to her otherwise loose and unstructured fighting technique. From the way she held her axe, to how her body moved, to the seemingly random shifts in her footing, Brittany was the very definition of unorthodox.

Santana didn't understand how this woman had almost bested her.

Clicking.

Clicking.

Clicking.

Clicking.

She dropped low and avoided the first spider to launch itself from the webs. The second one met with the pointy ends of her swords. Its shrill cries did little to deter the rest of them. There were more than Santana imagined, which meant there was a mother somewhere near. Frostbite spiders rarely attacked in force if they weren't protecting eggs.

Click. Click. Click. Click.

A ball of venom shot at her from afar. She barely dodged the poisonous discharge. Disgusting. "By Talos's beard, I hate spiders."

Thrust. Parry. Dodge. Thrust. Footing. Block. Thrust. Swipe. Guard. Footing. Step. Angle. Check Flank. Blonde hair. Three Draugr surrounded her. Defend. Brittany. Footing. She broke loose. More spiders. Check Flank Again.

Thrust- a disembodied Draugr head flew through the air above her – Mandibles. Click. Snap. Long legs covered by deer skin leggings and protected by light armor over shins and thighs kicked into the chest of a nearby Draugr. The corpse flipped back and landed on an advancing Frostbite spider. Both collapsed in a heap on the ground immobile. Santana broke discipline – parried; side-stepped – and glanced once more to Brittany. The blonde Nord flashed Santana a smile similar to the one she had given to her after cutting her loose before she took off once again. Before Santana could react, Brittany bound away.

An unnatural screech rocked the webs and echoed through the corridor.

"Big one coming." Santana called back.

"I'm a little busy." Brittany grunted. A Draugr had effectively pinned her against a wall while another one stood with an axe raised ready to bash the blonde's unprotected head.

A dark shadow eclipsed the corridor. Santana's heart raced as she knew the monstrously sized spider was approaching. What in Talos's name was she doing? Again, she broke discipline. Never willingly relinquish a weapon.

With deadly accuracy, a short sword flew through the air and plunged into the Draugr's neck. Brittany's eyes widened. The axe harmlessly fell beside her head. She kicked out and broke loose from the other Draugr. The light reflecting from her conjured ball dimmed as a great shadow spread across them. Santana's short sword stuck fast in the Draugr. Brittany contemplated retrieving the weapon, but it didn't last long. More Draugr were advancing and she could feel the shadow of a particularly large Frostbite spider bearing down the cave.

She wanted to assist Santana, but they ran the risk of being taken from behind. Brittany braced her axe and prepared for the second wave. She had promised to take care of the Draugr.

A brilliant flash of heat erupted. It felt like a great fire had just been fanned to life behind her back. Brittany fell forward and covered her eyes. The Draugr dropped back and hesitated. Shrill inhuman noises of pain bounced off the walls.

Santana's war cry broke over the horrid cries of Frostbite spiders and whaling Draugr. The sound of metal resounded through the crypt and accompanied the sporadic flares of heat and light. Brittany desperately wanted to know what was happening and if Santana needed help, but the Draugr had recovered from being momentarily stunned. She would have to trust Santana to handle the spider.

Moments later, the Draugr found eternal peace at the end of Brittany's axe. Santana plunged her remaining short sword into the felled spider's head once – twice - and twisted the blade. It crunched. The hovering ball of light grew brighter once more and filled the space between them. Their eyes met. They were both panting and charged from the adrenaline pumping through their bodies. Frostbite venom stuck to Santana's armor and pooled on the floor. Brittany had a soft covering of bone dust coating her own armor, but they both appeared unscathed.

Webs appeared burnt and there were scorch marks on the wall, but Brittany didn't ask. She was too busy smiling. Her bright blue eyes landed on the short sword Santana had thrown to save her head. The weapon stuck for a second before Britt tugged it loose.

With the same smile, Brittany offered the weapon hilt first to Santana.

Santana reached out and wrapped her hand around the pommel. Brittany's eyes widened as she felt residual heat emanating from Santana's fingers. What had happened when she was fighting the Draugr? She was almost tempted to break eye contact to look at the charred legs of the Frostbite spider. But – temptation held no candle to the depths of Santana's eyes. Brittany wasn't willing to relinquish their hold just yet. Curious, Brittany purposely extended her hand and covered Santana's hand over the pommel.

Warm.

She was so warm.

Brittany exhaled a white puff of air. Neither of them quite released the hold of the sword. Finally, Britt's hand fell back and she smiled once again. "You might have dropped this." Santana didn't pull the sword back right away. Brittany flashed her a smile even bigger than the last one. "I'm lucky you did."

The sword felt different as she sheathed it. Santana tried not to think about it. It had been foolish and showy to throw her sword like that, but – a small smile graced her own lips.

The same thought ran through her head once more.

What in Talos's name was she doing?

* * *

**Hope you guys enjoyed it! I'm going to finish posting part 1 (it should be a few chapters) and then switch to **_**Smooth Operator**_**. **

**Like I said, my inbox is always open and everyone should know where to find me on tumblr or on twitter kell_nico**


	2. Chapter 2

**The responses and messages from the first chapter were incredible. THANK YOU! Seriously. I was a little nervous about writing a fic outside of standard Glee. But all my original fics are actually fantasy novels, so I am really excited to write something in "my wheelhouse".**

**To answer a lot of questions, this story starts** _**in media res**_ **which is a silly fancy literature term that essentially means** _**in the middle of things**_**. Action has already happened before and will be revealed eventually. The reader isn't supposed to know everything about Santana or Brittany yet.**

**My non-Skyrim/fantasy readers, you are in the same boat as my gf/editor. I will start a glossary of terms on my tumblr for reference.**

**To everyone thinking of purchasing Skyrim, AWESOME! It's totally worth it. Do NOT purchase it for the PS3. I love my playstation, it's fantastic, but there is almost no support for Skyrim on playstation and it's buggy as fuck. Play on your PC because hellloooooo mods also Steam sales.**

**Finally, I got a few of these - yes! I did mean to write Dovekin as Dovekin. That was not a mistake. I promise! :D**

******I would be doing the community a disservice if I didn't mention that there are talks of a BrittanaCon 2014. They are looking for website gurus, logos, graphic designers, logistics help, and a general idea of interest. I've already committed to attending and I think it's going to be a great time. A lot of the fandom's best have already committed as well to going or helping, so I encourage everyone who's interested to check out the website. I'm going to put a link to the google+ community and the tumblr page with the information in my FF profile. Hope to see you all there! :D**

******Sorry for long A/N. :)**

* * *

_**Dovekin**_

**1.2**

"Junk."

Santana tossed a broken helmet over her shoulder.

"Junk."

Rotten fruit.

"Junk."

An old sword.

"Junk."

Some bone dust.

"Junk."

A dagger.

"I don't know, there's some decent stuff…" The voice behind her mused. Santana rolled her eyes. Decent? Maybe if she was a beggar. Everything Santana tossed over her back, Brittany was quick to pick up and slip into her pack. Santana glanced back and noticed the way Brittany's pack bulged with all the things she had just discarded. She was kidding right? What was she going to do lugging around all that extra weight?

"By Talos! Is there nothing good here?" Santana muttered as she continued to sift through the pile of bodies and dismembered spiders. Their pursuit of the final brigand had slowed after the battle. "If I see one more rusty dagger, I'm going to kill something!"

"We sort of already killed a lot of things. But if you really need to kill some more things, I'm sure there's another part of the crypt that we haven't explored." Brittany answered with a hint of anticipation. She had been resigned to work through the crypt alone, but the possibility of traveling with another person had revitalized her spirit. The possibility of traveling with this Santana had even greater appeal. There was something about Santana.

"By Talos's arm and leg and beard and cloak and his bloody nose!" The string of curses that exited her mouth were either in response to Brittany's rather glib response or that Santana had not only found another rusty knife, but she had accidently sliced her palm open on the blade. She sucked on the wound to stem the bleeding. It didn't hurt that much, but it was the idea that she had done it while paying attention to the blonde that annoyed Santana more than anything. Even more so, this wasn't the first time she had allowed herself to be distracted by Brittany. It was proving to be a dangerous habit. "I know we just killed a lot of Talos cursed things. Thank you for the battle report."

"Sorry, I just thought cause you said you wanted to kill something-" She apologized, but her smile never faded.

"Do you take everything someone says as truth? What kind of Nord are you?" Santana kept trying to apply enough pressure to her palm, but she was still bleeding. After two skirmishes and a fairly large attack from the spiders and the Draugr, she hadn't sustained a single nick or scrape, but she was cut by a fucking piece of shit dagger and with no loot to show for the blood. Blood shed needlessly – even a small amount – was a waste of energy and a bad omen.

Her father taught her that.

One quick look down the winding and rather ominous corridor strengthened that feeling.

Darkly, she mused it could be her choice of company.

A hand wrapped gently around Santana's wrist. The warrior flinched as a reflex. Santana's heart was beating fast again. She hadn't been prepared for her companion to brazenly touch her. Brittany tilted her head, but patiently waited for Santana to relax. Warmth blossomed between them once again. Prolonged exposure to Skyrim's climate had naturally gifted to the Nords an aversion to the cold, but Santana's heat trailed around Brittany's fingers and circled around her wrist. She wanted to tell Santana she was warm, but –

Brittany had a feeling it was something Santana couldn't control.

Dark eyes waited expectantly for Brittany to make the observation.

But it never came. Santana wasn't sure if she was relieved or disappointed that Brittany hadn't commented. Whatever she felt – Brittany's silence had been unexpected.

Softly Brittany suggested. "I can heal that."

Santana twisted her wrist back. Brittany didn't release, but she did loosen her grip. They both could have easily tested the limits of their newly formed armistice. Only a few hours separated now and when they had fought each other.

"It's not a simple trick of light like your bouncing friend." Santana's eyes flickered to the ball of light that had been circling around their area.

"Nor is it a mortal wound." Brittany's voice lifted and dropped before rising once more. It teased much like the conjured ball. "Well-" Santana wondered if those blue eyes would capture light and twinkle when they weren't surrounded by darkness. "-it won't be if you let me see it."

Reluctant by nature, Santana was slow to allow Brittany to pull her hand back. Light enveloped Brittany's fingers and spread across Santana's outstretched hand. Her skin tingled as it absorbed the healing force emanating from the blonde. Warmth and magicka coupled. A wave of rejuvenation washed over her body and she felt instantly renewed. The light encompassed more than her hand. The surging magicka washed over her body. It felt like Brittany was infusing her with something more. Santana had been so captivated by the play of magicka that she hadn't noticed Brittany's eyes had never left her own. She had been watching Santana's reaction the whole time – still smiling.

The light above them flickered and started to falter.

It broke their eye contact. The tingling sensations ebbed and slowed until it was only the contact between their hands creating any sort of "magicka." Even that ended too soon.

Regretfully, Brittany glanced up to the ball of light and released Santana's hand with a sigh.

Maintaining the fabricated light and healing Santana at the same time had pushed the woman's magickas to their apex. The moment hadn't been lost on Santana. "Thank you. It feels good." She flexed her hand. It felt better than good; her whole body hummed with subtle undulations of residual power. A thin red line was the only evidence of the injury. Given time, it would fade away completely. Curiosity still gnawed her. "Are you an apprentice from the College at Winterfell?"

Brittany collected the ball and bounced it in the air a few times. It flared back to life. "Winterfell?" Her eyes peered off. She shook her head ruefully as if Santana's suggestion was unfathomable. "You would weave me into some grand magicka user? I've never been that far North, but I've heard tales of the mages from the College."

Santana narrowed her gaze. "Not a mercenary. Not a mage. Not a bandit or a warrior. Not a Stormcloak or an Imperial. Brittany, Daughter of Pierce, Dovekin, you possess a strange set of skills for one so deep underground with nothing but a fool's errand."

"Do you regret trusting me?"

Santana pondered the question, but flashed the blonde a smile of her own. "Who says I trust you?"

"Not all trust has to be said aloud."

Santana flushed and bristled. She shook her head and finally broke the prolonged eye contact between them. What in Talos's name was this woman doing down here? What in Talos's name was she, Santana, doing? Every set of training and knowledge Santana had accumulated shouted that she should be cautious. Under no circumstance should she trust a woman like Brittany, Daughter of Pierce, Dovekin. It was dangerous and foolish. But Brittany was right. Santana couldn't deny her words. For some reason, she trusted this woman. Instead of responding, Santana pulled away and gathered her gear. She noticed the trail of blood from their scar faced friend had deviated from the Frostbite spider nest. He had been crafty enough to avoid the trap she had sprung. It galled her to know she had been distracted enough to fall into a trap the bandit had cleanly avoided.

A well-crafted helmet lying beside a Draugr body caught her eye. It lacked the station markings of city guard armor or the intricacies of elven glass or the durability and gaudiness of Dwemer metal, but it was serviceable Nord steel. Santana picked it up and ran her fingers over the short nose piece. She flipped it and found the brand on the inside and instantly recognized the stamp – female blacksmith in Whiterun.

"Here." Santana tossed the half-helm to her companion. Brittany fumbled with the packs in her hands and almost dropped everything to the ground as she caught the helmet out of the air. Santana didn't know why she enjoyed the look of confused amusement on Brittany's face so much, but she almost wanted to surprise her again just to see those blue eyes grow big.

"What do I need this for?" Brittany struggled with her filled pack before she eventually alleviated some of the weight by tossing a few of the more useless items back to the ground. She turned the helmet in her hands and glanced back to Santana for guidance.

"I might not always be there to protect your pretty head." Santana suggested with a smirk.

Brittany opened her mouth to issue a rebuttal, but Santana did have a point. "I meant to thank you for that."

"You didn't have to." Santana waited. Brittany fiddled with the nose piece the same way Santana had done. Her eyes trailed along the steel. The helmet had been made for a bigger head, but she adjusted the leather straps under her chin until it fit her snuggly. Blonde hair hung loose behind her neck, but the helmet protected her head and the eye holes were large enough that her vision would be mostly unhindered. Santana nodded with satisfaction. She looked good. "Does it fit?"

"Yes, but I don't see-" She readjusted the strap again. "-why I have to wear one and you only have to wear that circlet. I can't imagine it would protect you as well as a helmet."

"Unlike you, I am very cautious of my head." Santana turned and picked up the trail of blood in the corridor. Brittany followed. The bouncing light circled around them once more. "And this circlet, as you call it, will protect me better than any helmet would."

Brittany doubted the tiny golden circlet could protect anything. It did, however, have a very red stone in the center. Besides decoration, Brittany couldn't see much use for Santana's headpiece, or why she insisted on protecting Brittany's _pretty head_. Brittany mused aloud. "Perhaps you are cautious of your head, but you don't seem all that cautious about where you're walking."

A small scuff from the other woman's boot echoed through the corridor. Santana was grateful that she was leading and Brittany couldn't see the color in her cheeks. She hadn't meant to lead them straight into a spider nest. Light-hearted laughter bounced off the walls. Apparently Brittany had also heard Santana misstep. Not used to being the recipient of ridicule, Santana straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin defiantly as if she hadn't just made a fool of herself a second time.

* * *

They had been walking for what felt like hours. A few random Frostbite spiders had attacked, but nothing like before. Together, they had easily dispatched any adversary including a few overzealous Skeever rats.

Brittany had closed the distance between them. Santana had been hyperaware of her proximity for the last three corridors.

"You said they stole something from your family earlier. Mind if I ask what it was?"

Her light voice startled Santana and she almost lost her purchase again. She puffed a sigh of relief that she hadn't repeated her embarrassing trip so soon. Despite what she had so far displayed for the blonde Nord, Santana had always had impeccable footing and rock solid balance. For some reason, it had been off since she had met Brittany. Santana half-heartedly reasoned that perhaps it was the other woman's ball of light or some other kind of unseen spell she was working to throw Santana's balance off. Whatever it was – Santana pressed on at a faster pace.

The question was innocent enough.

The answer wasn't.

Santana contemplated whether to tell her new companion the truth. Unconsciously, her fingers flexed around the grip of her blades and tightened. Had this been anyone else, Santana wouldn't have even considered sharing the details of her family's stolen heirloom. In fact, Santana would have cut anyone else down before daring to trust them. It was too valuable and priceless to even divulge the smallest of details. But – Santana remembered the wooden spoon Brittany had turned around in her hand in curiosity before shoving it into her pack; she remembered the worthless rusty dagger and the other random worthless things she had collected from the Draugr bodies. Santana doubted Brittany had entered the dark crypt hoping for treasure. So far, Brittany showed no inklings of a thief or an opportunistic adventurer. She was starting to believe Brittany really was searching for an unnamed object in the dark underground.

The problem was Santana had a difficult time imagining this woman lying about anything.

Brittany didn't miss the hesitation. Santana had remained guarded and rightfully so. It was only natural, but it didn't assuage the curiosity Brittany held to know everything about this woman. Everything about her told a different story – the way she walked, held her blade, the markings on her armor, the golden red stoned circlet, her dark hair, but Nord accent, and of course, those eyes. Stories and lives and secrets emanated from the warrior. It was impossible not to be curious. "It's okay. I understand. I haven't told you much about myself either."

"Like I said…it's a family heirloom – " Santana repeated with a sigh. She already fought alongside Brittany in battle. Between Nords, they were as close as blood. "-not that my family was particularly fond of it or even cares so much that it's missing."

"Is it cursed?" Interest piqued, Brittany quickly questioned.

Not used to be interrupted, Santana pursed her lips, but Brittany's genuine excitement placated her fears of sharing her tale with the other woman. "No. It's not cursed, but it might as well be, as my family doesn't care if it is returned."

"But it's an heirloom? It's important?"

"According to our family legend – it is the key that will lead our family to a great destiny – a terrible and unavoidable destiny."

"Has it?" Brittany's eyes widened.

"Some would say it already has, but I am not one for taking chances."

Not one for chances and yet she had allowed Brittany to remain close even though they were strangers. Perhaps Santana had different views of herself. Brittany chose to keep those thoughts to herself. "Is it a talisman or a weapon?"

Again, Santana shook her head ruefully at Brittany's energy. She half turned so she could see the blonde's blue eyes through the holes of the helmet. Here, she hesitated, as this was the moment a greedy companion could decide to take a chance killing her and trying to recover the heirloom by themselves. Brittany waited expectantly with baited breath as she imaged what the heirloom could possibly be.

"It's a three fingered dragon's claw – made of solid gold." Santana lifted her ungloved hand and raised her three fingers to illustrate.

"It sounds priceless – why would your family not care about it being stolen?"

"It's grown to be a point of contention amongst our family members. It is priceless – thus why some would want to put a price on it. It has been hidden and locked away to avoid further conflict. They would rather forget its existence."

"A strange family to so easily throw away an object tied to a destiny."

"I said terrible and unavoidable, right?" Santana repeated with a sad smile. "Because those are the exact words attached to the three clawed dragon piece."

Brittany only nodded in response. Santana's words struck a particularly personal chord. They were words Brittany could understand – especially now and her own reasons for entering the crypt. Terrible and unavoidable twisted a word like _destiny_. They ripped _destiny_ from the stars; they ripped _destiny _from tales and legends and grounded it; made it dirty, made it real. A shudder ran down Brittany's back.

Terrible and unavoidable. The weight of words could be crushing.

"A heavy burden to place upon yourself to recover it."

This time Santana remained silent. Brittany's words cut through her core. This Brittany, Daughter of Pierce, Dovekin, had only known Santana for a few hours and with one sentence, she had effectively touched a place of intimacy where her duty and familial love constantly waged war. Breathless, Santana whispered. "Yes."

During the course of their conversation, Brittany's pace had leveled with Santana's. They were walking side by side and Brittany had no intention of slowing her pace to return to the rear. She enjoyed the ability to see Santana's eyes when they were talking. It was a luxury Brittany wasn't keen to cede just yet. Small waves of heat rolled from her companion's body and Brittany no longer wondered why Santana didn't wear gloves in the freezing cold. Santana's left hand remained poised over her sword. Brittany wondered if there was ever a time when Santana wasn't prepared for battle.

"Hold." Santana's right hand flipped into the air in front of Brittany's face. The blonde came to an immediate halt and reached back for her axe. As Santana had yet to unsheathe, Brittany didn't draw.

"What is it?"

"Touch plates."

"What?"

"On the floor." Santana pointed to the stones on the floor. Every few stones, a stone with two raised dots stood out from the rest of the flooring. Brittany would have never noticed them as they were so inconspicuously placed throughout.

"What do they do?"

"You don't know until you trip one." Santana distractedly answered. Her eyes were scanning the walls and the ceilings for potential traps, but nothing immediately stood out.

"Seems simple enough." Brittany took a step forward.

"By Talos!" Santana swore and violently grasped Brittany by the forearm and yanked her back before she could step on the pressure plate underneath her hovering boot. "Weren't you listening to me?"

Brittany's face turned bright red underneath the half-helm. She had been listening. She had. "I just thought I'd be able to get through it."

"You think you can fly through it? I have yet to see your wings, Dovekin." Santana shook her head. Brittany, daughter of Pierce, Dovekin, was going to get them killed if she kept bouncing around like a bird just hatched. For knowing the rudiments of magicka and wielding a battle axe, Santana couldn't understand how Brittany had expected to make it through her little mysterious quest alive. "No, it's easier if we can identify the source of the trap and disable it from spring. Like over there -" Santana pointed to a small cutout to their right. "-if you would have triggered that stone, it would have released those bars of spikes directly into our path."

Brittany squinted at the area Santana singled out, but she still couldn't see what she was talking about.

"Here."

"What?"

"Come here. I'll show you." Santana felt compelled to demonstrate the nature of the trap for Brittany. She didn't hesitate to take Brittany by the wrist and lead her backward. Her dark eyes quickly measured the length of the spikes and the space they would need to avoid the iron points. It would be a tight fit. Santana reached into her own pack and handed over a thick deer hide binding to Brittany. "Hold this."

Brittany did as Santana commanded, but still had questions. "What's this for?"

"Just be ready and-" Santana remeasured the distance in a glance. She picked up a good sized stone and tested its weight. It would do. "- stay close."

"That won't be a problem."

The stone skipped in her hand. Santana fumbled for a half second to gain control of the rock. Brittany could have sworn she saw Santana swallow hard, but it could have been a trick of the light. Brittany pressed herself flat against the rock-face. A second later, Santana flung the rock. It flew with accuracy. Brittany remembered how Santana had threaded an arrow through the ranks of Draugr to injure the final thief. The stone hit the trigger. The sound of a release clicked. An ancient groan echoed through the room. Brittany's blue eyes snapped to the spot Santana had pointed out just in time to see the wall of iron spikes dislodge. It swung out in their direction. Anything caught in its path would be impaled.

Santana.

Brittany wrapped her arms around Santana's waist and yanked her back from the danger – just as Santana had done a few moments ago. The brunette fell back into Brittany's body. Her backside flushed against Brittany. She could feel the blonde's belt in her lower back and the hard outline of her breastplate. Their bodies pressed together. Brittany's glove clad hand spread across her stomach over the steel. It settled across her midsection over the crook of her hip where leather straps held her armor in place. With nothing to separate them, Santana's hypersensitivity to everything regarding Brittany heightened. She was focused so intently upon feel of Brittany's tender grip that she had completely forgot about the danger. Brittany's hand tightened and clenched. Santana tore her gaze away from fur lined glove on her hip in time to feel the rush of wind sweep her hair. The iron barred grate flew safely past them by a few inches. It slammed into the far wall with a loud crash. It scraped the stone. Brittany could hear the gears, pulleys, and rope straining against the bars. The sound of grinding echoed through the room as the mechanism started to reverse the bars to reset the trap.

Brittany grunted. Santana lunged forward to grasp the whole contraption as it passed them. The hidden mechanism whined against the stress. Santana held the grate tightly to stop it from resetting. Her arms flexed and her feet spread to give her leverage.

"Tie the bindings around it and anchor it to the torch on the wall! Quickly!" Santana urged Brittany. Santana groaned against the force of the pulley. Her footing slid, but she didn't budge. Brittany swiftly tied the bindings around the iron grate and wrapped it around the torch holder on the wall. The knot tightened. Santana moved back cautiously to test the strength of Brittany's knots. The fastenings caught and kept the iron gate still. Santana turned prepared to compliment the blonde's knots, but the little space separating them had diminished. Santana found herself looking up into Brittany's eyes and the words escaped her.

"We make a pretty good team." Brittany didn't seem in the least bit concerned about their proximity. She was smiling again. Santana didn't answer nor did she move. Brittany's hand had resettled on Santana's hip.

She coughed and patted Brittany's arm like she would to a fellow soldier or a friend after a practice sparring. She tried to not make it awkward as she pulled back. Her armor scratched against the iron gate at her back and made a terrible noise. She cringed and stumbled to squeeze out of the small cavity they had been sharing. Santana walked a few paces and rolled her eyes at herself. It seemed like every time she talked to Brittany for more than a few minutes, it was a new opportunity to make a fool of herself.

What was she doing?

Brittany lingered behind to watch the other woman stalk off. She wasn't quite sure why Santana had mumbled and walked away. They had just effectively avoided a rather deadly trap together.

The corridor still held a multitude of raised stones on the floor - any of which could be another trap. Maybe it was time to pull her own weight. Without a second thought, she dropped the pack she had been shouldering. It contained the loot she had scavenged from the dead Draugr and the Frostbite spiders along with a trinkets she had collected from various containers, urns, and boxes. Before Santana could turn around, Brittany jolted forward.

"Wait!" Santana cried out, but the blonde hair whipped through the air underneath the steel helmet and dashed into the middle of the trap beset corridor. Expecting the worst, Santana half-turned her head and shut her eyes.

But it never came.

Light footfalls bounced from stone to stone softer than the pounding beat of her heart. Santana dared to look up. Halfway through the corridor, Brittany had managed to find the right stones. Shocked, Santana's jaw dropped. A moment ago, Brittany had almost killed them. Now -

Brittany hopped on one foot and nimbly danced to the next stone safely.

- she was literally jumping through the ancient maze of traps and triggers. Maybe Brittany was kin to birds after all.

"Are you coming?"

"Wh-how are- how are you doing that?" Santana stuttered in disbelief.

"Just follow where I scraped the stone with my axe."

It was the first time Santana noticed Brittany had drawn her weapon and held it blade down. "You still didn't explain how you know which ones are traps -" Santana found the first one with a white scrape. Without hesitation, she placed her full weight on the stone. It held. A few places away, another stone stood out with a white marking. There had been no answer yet. Santana frowned, but leaped to the next marker. "Brittany?"

"Yeah?" She was balancing on her toes and swiping her axe on the spot beneath her. Somehow, despite the armor and her belt and her other trappings, the blonde had stretched her leg up parallel to the wall beside her. Brittany turned back with a smile on her face as if she didn't have a care in the world.

"How do you know which stones are triggers and which ones are safe?" Santana easily made it to the next marking.

Brittany shrugged. "I don't know. I'm just going with my gut on this one."

"What!?" Santana lost her balance for a have second. Her arms shot out and waved to find her center again. Her abs clenched to hold her upright.

This time, Brittany turned around completely to face Santana. Her smile had curved and appeared all the more mischievous underneath the half-helm. She took a step backward without even checking her footing. Her blue eyes playfully held Santana's gaze. The attention made her mouth dry and her breathing shorten. Brittany had successfully crossed the corridor and leaned against the far wall.

Casually, Brittany stated. "It's the distance between the stones. They have to be a certain distance to make it safe for passage. And if you look at the corners of the other stones, they look as if a boot has never touched them."

"And you knew all this?"

"Not before you pointed the first stone out."

Santana didn't even know how to respond or why she had waited until she had gotten half way through the death trap before asking. Trust had to be earned. She had just blindly trusted Brittany and could have been killed. Brittany might have been Dovekin, but Santana's father would have most certainly called his daughter bird-brained for acting so rashly.

Yet each stone held and never set off a trap.

Was it so foolish to trust this woman?

Almost at the end, Santana stretched out to pass the threshold of safety and join Brittany. As she touched down beyond the danger, her companion was already moving down the next corridor.

"By Talos-" Santana muttered under her breath. Blonde hair turned the corner out of sight. "-what am I doing? She's going to get us killed." Santana readjusted her armor and realized Brittany hadn't waited for her. "Shit." Habit drew her short sword from its scabbard. She followed the same path her companion had just walked. "Brittany?"

The corridor was dark without Brittany's conjured light, but Santana's eyes didn't require time to adjust. The hallway opened. Light poured from the upcoming room. It was long and narrow, but more spacious than the hallways. Torches lined the walls. Their light spilled over carvings and ancient stories Santana didn't recognize. The figures on the walls told stories Santana didn't recognize of legends that had long been forgotten. They stretched down the length of the entire room.

In the middle of the room, Brittany stood appraising the painting with the same expression of awe. No matter what kind of trinkets or swords or coins she had left behind in her back, it all paled in comparison. Was this room what she was supposed to find?

By the Divines, she hoped so.

"Have you ever seen a room like this?"

"No..." Santana's eyes narrowed. Now that the wonder of the room had started to diminish, Santana grew suspicious. "Who lit these lights? There is too much dust and no trace of hands on the walls. They have not been touched in months if not years." She stretched her hand out over the closest flame. It was hot. It felt like real fire, but it seemed impossible. To herself, she whispered. "How?" They had only seen Draugr, spiders, and rats. The thief she had been tracking wouldn't have taken the time to light these torches. Quickly, she cast her eyes down.

Two sets of boot prints.

One led to Brittany.

The other continued beyond where Brittany stood.

A large circular door should have ended the room and prevented passage, but it had been opened. "What is that?"

"Oh-" Brittany shrugged. "-I think someone must have just opened that door. It was like that when I got here."

Santana swept past her. Brittany hadn't given the opened door much thought. They had encountered relatively no locked doors or barred passages except for the trapped corridor behind them. She hadn't thought the opened door could be cause for alarm. The dark haired warrior had yet to sheath her sword. She approached the door with a frown on her face. Brittany stopped trying to read the stories on the walls and followed Santana to the opening. She watched with curiosity as Santana ran her hands over the edges of the circular door frame. Her bare fingers pressed into a divot still visible from the surface of the door. The hole was big enough for her finger to insert up to the knuckle. Brittany watched with rapt attention. Santana saw another hole poking from a different section of the circle and a third hole.

"Is something wrong?"

Santana pulled back. "He used the claw. That's how he opened the door."

Now Brittany frowned as she tried to understand what Santana was saying. "The dragon claw that he stole from your family? I thought when you said it opened a door, it was a metaphorical door."

"So did I." Next to the wall she recognized familiar shapes that had been on the claw.

Bear. Moth. Owl.

Absorbed in her thoughts, Santana's frown deepened as she checked the final hole. Brittany said nothing. She watched silently as Santana wrestled internally. Her fingers gripped the handle of her sword and flexed. Obviously, she had not been expecting the dragon claw to open anything, much less for the thieves to know the claw was a key. The conversation the two men had frantically exchanged during the Draugr ambush became clearer. The scarred face thief had shouted that he wasn't leaving until he got "it". Perhaps they had been after more than just a golden claw. Their retreat into the crypt had been spurred by desire, not to flee from pursuit.

Santana must have come to the same realization.

Under her breath, she whispered. "Bastard." The creak of leather strained against her grip. If he had expected a quick death, he would be disappointed. Santana had been prepared to kill him to recover her family's heirloom, but now she wanted to know everything he knew about the dragon claw. Specifically, how in Talos's name did he know the claw was a key and opened this exact door? He would know pain before he passed on from this life. Her voice darkened like it had the first time Brittany heard Santana speak to the rogues. Terse and laconic, Santana's steel resolve had surfaced once more. This was the warrior who pulled a dagger across a man's throat without blinking an eye. "This is a family matter, I understand if you have to continue your own way."

Brittany recognized this was Santana's way of excusing her companion from the imminent danger ahead. It also released her. They had traveled through the crypt from necessity and the inability to kill one another. Their slates were clean. Obligations had been met. They owed nothing to one another. Their paths diverged. The lights from the torches flickered. A wind swept through the narrow room and past the door.

Diverged.

Much like the wind from the mountain, Brittany sensed the thread invisibly tethered to her path tug and twist. The wind wanted nothing to do with Santana. Before, it had served her well to join forces with her through the underground, but now, it would be a dalliance. She had to complete her task quickly.

Santana sensed her hesitation and nodded. They had different paths. "Perhaps we will meet again, Brittany, Daughter of Pierce, Dovekin."

With the slightest hint of regret, Santana withdrew both blades and moved to press on. It wasn't often she came across a man or woman like Brittany in her travels. Most people, even Nords, were untrustworthy and would turn on a companion if given the opportunity, especially far from the cities. Most times, Santana traveled alone. Sharing the journey for a few hours had been invigorating, but it was also a relief to know they would be parting. Such partnerships had short and bloody lives. It was better to part ways without blood spilled between them. The swords in her hands dipped, but Santana lifted her chin. It was better to part. Past the door, the torches continued to line the hallway up stone stairs. Santana imagined the stairs would lead to the main chamber of the crypt. Internally, she steeled herself for what waited ahead. It could be an army of Draugr, a trap, the bandit waiting to take her by surprise, or something worse. This time she would be fighting alone.

The pathway opened.

The stone widened.

The stairs diminished and eventually flattened to the height of the floor. Santana stopped. She stood at the entrance of a great chamber. Rock formations hung from the high ceiling. A natural spring from the mountain ran through the chamber. Pathways and stone bridges carved into the center of the mountain hundreds of years ago that had withstood the decay of time. Carvings similar to the ones they had found in the dragon door antechamber room floated across the floor and told stories that ran around the chamber. They climbed the stairs in the shape of stone figures and cutouts. The impossibly lit torches lined the walls.

On the floor, a set of footprints had disturbed the thick sheet of dust that had settled over the chamber. It seemed her thief had indeed used the claw to gain access to the center piece room of the crypt. The disturbed dust didn't seem out of place because the footprints, like everything, led to the center of the chamber.

Santana lifted her eyes.

A grand set of stairs elevated to a raised platform. On top of the raised platform, Santana could see decorative stone carvings on a large tomb. But even more impressive was the backdrop. A sheet of the mountain wall had been smooth, polished, and then thousands of words had been chiseled into its surface.

Without realizing it, her mouth had dropped in appreciation of the sight. Even though the chamber was antiquated and didn't possess the same modern beauty of the cities or some of the more architecturally complex structures Santana had seen, the ancient stonework inspired a sense of archaic wonder and ominous anticipation. Beneath the stones and the earth, the dead slept restlessly and other dangers lurked. The air chilled. It swept through her armor. It was reminiscent of the unnatural frost which accompanied the Draugr. She lifted her sword, prepared for another attack.

"Perhaps-" Brittany's voice traveled up the stairs. It struggled to gain power against the wind howling between them. The sound of another voice should have slowed her heart and calmed the growing anxiety in her chest, but Brittany produced the opposite effect. "-what I am looking for is this way too?" Santana's heart jumped to her throat. She almost didn't dare to turn around. When no response came, Brittany added. "If you would have me for one more room then we could part ways."

Santana turned. The blonde had already drawn her axe. The half helm reflected the light from the torches. A sense of pride touched the rim of the helmet and the way Brittany trusted her so easily to take and wear the head piece. It fit her. Without realizing it, Santana's lips curved in a smile. "For one more room, I think I could bear your company-" She paused and licked her bottom lip. Brittany recalled the first time Santana had done so when they were fighting. A wave of warmth that had nothing to do with Santana's body temperature washed over the blonde. "-Brittany."

It somehow intensified as Santana said her name for the first time without adding her father's name or the edge in her voice when she titled her Dovekin.

"Any sign of your thief?"

Santana waited for Brittany to walk abreast of her before taking another step into the chamber. The tip of her sword pointed out the tracks she had observed earlier. "He isn't far." Brittany's presence had dispelled the unnatural cold. As they walked further into the chamber, their footfalls mirrored the set of feet that had crossed not long before. She teased. "Are you going to let him go like last time?"

"Hmm." Brittany tried not to smile, but the half-helm did little to hide her amusement. "I guess you'll just have to see what I do."

"From what I've seen, maybe I would have been safer if we had remained parted-" Her voice edged. The playfulness in her tone cut off. Santana had been willing to continue their banter, but her boot struck a different texture on the hard stone. It didn't produce the same sound. She raised her foot cautiously. It dripped. She knew it was fresh blood before she even looked down.

"What is-"

Santana's free hand touched Brittany's forearm and shook her head for silence. The pool of blood on the stairs was only the beginning. The blood traveled along their same path up to the center of the chamber. Brittany felt Santana's fingers slid up her bicep and tightened. Without saying a word, Brittany side-stepped the blood and broke from Santana's side. The wide berth of the ceremonial stone stairs allowed her quite a bit of space between herself and Santana. Brittany tore her eyes away from the blood trail to glance to her companion. Santana's eyes were intently focused. Her arms were tense. She had only drawn one sword, but her right hand hovered over the hilt of the second.

As they crested the platform, the dark rivers of blood thickened. Streams ran through the cracks in the stone and in rivulets. Both sets of eyes followed the flow to the large tomb at the center altar.

A soft gasp escaped Brittany's lips.

"By Talos..." Santana whispered. She had expected resistance from the final thief, not this.

By the Divines, she would have never expected this.

Pinned to the front of the ornate burial tomb, Brennah, the scarred face rogue, hung suspended a few inches from the ground. His head rolled over his chest and his legs sagged beneath him. His body should have been flat on the floor. But three golden talons of a great dragon claw had impaled him straight through to the stone. Blood soaked through his clothes and dripped to the floor. Brittany quickly noticed a blood drenched cloth wrapped around his left leg where Santana had injured him with her arrow, but the wound hadn't contributed to his death. The claw which had granted him access to the chamber had ended his life.

By the look in Santana's eyes, Brittany didn't have to question. The dragon claw was the one stolen from her family. Brittany took a step closer. Whatever had killed him had been powerful and dangerous. The claw was much larger than she envisioned it. Brittany had thought it would be a trinket, but by the size of it, the claw could have easily belonged to a real dragon and dipped in gold. Her bright eyes skimmed the surface of the blood covered stone to the tomb he had been impaled upon. Her heart hammered in her chest. She gripped the axe tighter in her hand and took a step closer. Santana had already cleared the distance. She bent over Brennah's body. She had yet to touch the claw. The violence that had driven the gilded talons through his chest had a sinister taboo upon the object. Brittany took a step closer, but remained mindful or her surroundings. She didn't want to leave Santana exposed while she retrieved her family's heirloom.

The ground started to vibrate.

Brittany stopped.

It did more than vibrate. Brittany felt a deep tugging from the core of her body. It resonated from within and drew her from without.

She tried to take another step to Santana, but she couldn't summon the will power - a much greater force called. Couldn't she feel it? Brittany opened her mouth, but no words exited.

Never one for fear or trepidation, Santana stretched her bare fingers out and glided down the long wrist of the gold scales. Warm, red stains smeared. He hadn't been dead very long. Softly, Santana grasped the claw. Withdrawing it proved more difficult than she imagined. It stuck. The points had been driven into the tomb behind his back. Santana dropped her swords and gripped the claw with two hands as she yanked with all her strength. Chips of stone crumbled to the floor. Once released from the stone, the claw tore free from his chest.

The golden talons dripped in her hand. The thief's body collapsed to the floor. He had been right - he would not die by her hand, but Santana worried about the hand that had killed him. She flipped the claw upside down. It still bore the same marks she remembered touching as a child.

Bear. Moth. Owl.

Perhaps she should have allowed the thief to keep the claw. He still would have met his end and her family would have been relieved of the cursed object. Red colored the animals. Carefully, she pulled a cloth from her pack and wrapped the claw. She collected her swords and stood up. At least she wouldn't return home empty-handed; not that her family would appreciate the effort.

Return home.

Brittany.

She had almost completely forgotten about Brittany while retrieving the golden claw. Now that she had completed her task, there was nothing that bound them together.

"Brittany?" Santana questioned. The blonde Nord had disappeared. She had been standing right there. "Brittany?"

Where could she have gone? A jolt of alarm ran through her body. Santana raised her swords. Her eyes quickly scanned the elevated platform area. This was the worst possible time for bird-kin to get flighty and play with some traps. Did she not see what happened to Brennah? Whatever killed him could still be lurking. Santana turned around in a tight circle, but came to a sudden halt. In the distance, blonde hair caught the wind. It bellowed behind Brittany's back and beneath her helm. Brittany's legs struggled with every step. She walked stiffly and her motions were constrained. Even more strange, she hadn't responded to any of the times Santana had called her.

"Brittany!"

Nothing.

"Dovekin!" She tried.

Still nothing.

What in Talos's name was she doing?

Uneasy, Santana took a step forward to follow.

The wind that had been steadily running through the chamber changed drastically. A bitter chill rose unnaturally from the ground. Frost crept up her armor from the tip of her boots and spread like spider webs over her light armor. It settled deep in her bones and constricted her muscles beneath her layers of deer skin and steel. Santana gasped as the cold clutched her insides. It was stronger than the Draugr's unnatural chill - this was ancient, powerful magicka. Santana struggled, but she could sense the cold seizing her body. She twitched her fingers and looked up. Brittany was still walking in a daze completely unaffected by the paralyzing cold.

"Br-" The syllable barely escaped her lips. "Brit-" A small puff of white air slipped between her chattering teeth. Just when she thought she would never feel blood flowing through her body again, the cold dispelled.

Santana hunched over and took heaping gulps of air. Her legs shook uncontrollably. The ground beneath her feet rumbled. Ripples formed in the pools of blood at her feet. The sound of stone grinding against stone set every hair on the back of her neck to stand straight. Santana fought off the lingering effects of the supernatural cold and grasped her swords. The heavy lid of the tomb split in half and crashed to the floor. Santana's boots slid over Brennah's blood as she leaped away from the tomb and spread her feet. Her swords rose as did her eyes.

Towering above her, a Draugr Overlord emerged from the tomb.

Santana inched back.

With no way of confirming, Santana knew without a doubt, this was the creature that had killed the thief. An Overlord could have easily driven the golden claw through flesh and bones deep into Brennah's chest. Santana's eyes drifted upward. The Overlord was a full head taller than the Draugr they had encountered. His armor had been impeccably preserved in the ornate tomb. In his hands, he wielded a curved blade with a wicked dark edge and composed of ebony, a material stronger than steel. It shimmered a light blue in the darkness revealing that it indeed bore an enchantment.

Their eyes locked.

His jaw dropped. His rotten teeth hung from his decayed skull. The ground shook once more as if he was summoning power from the very stone beneath their boots. It would be too late to break for cover. Santana braced herself. The Overlord's shoulders pinched and flew back. The ribbons of flesh that hung from his ribs cage puffed as he sucked in the cold Skyrim air. She crossed her swords just in time. The great Draugr pushed his entire chest forward and bellowed. The force knocked he back. Her boots slipped in the blood. Frost tips formed in the short distance between them. Sharp bits of ice bit into her exposed skin. The tips of her hair frozen. She closed her eyes and tried to protect herself as best she could.

The stream of ice cut off.

Santana didn't hesitate.

She opened. The Overlord lunged from the tomb. His greatsword raised high above his head.

Quick right. Back drop. Drop. Roll left.

The greatsword cut into the stone where Santana had been standing. The Overlord immediately freed the blade and swiped at her again. Santana barely blocked the blade. He was much faster than the Draugr they had previously encountered. The force of his attack rocked her back. She tried to avoid his next attack, but he swung the greatsword with such speed, she had to block it.

Snap.

The blade of her right sword snapped in half. Santana barely fell back quick enough to avoid the completion of the Overlord's attack.

_Pulse. Pulse. Pulse. _

_Beat. Beat. Beat. _

_Every step. Every step. Every step. _

_It called. It called. It called._

_It pulsed. It pulsed. It pulsed. _

_It beat. It beat. It beat._

_Her chest ached and her fingers vibrated. _

_Its ancient power demanded her presence. _

_With every step the pulse of the ground shook harder and called her forward. Every beat of her heart mirrored the beat of a lost hymn; a broken chant that had long been forgotten. Its song flooded her body and though she did not know the words, it was as if the thread of her soul had been woven in its harmonies; the words had been gilded to the marrow of her bones. _

Parry. Roll. Run. Dodge. Dagger. Dagger. Dagger. Santana threw the last of her daggers with force. Like the previous two daggers, it stuck in the center of the Overlord's chest as if it was nothing. She was running out of options. Her breath was coming in short pants. The Draugr continued advancing. Santana glanced to the body of Brennah on the floor. She feared she would meet the same fate as the thief if the Overlord got too close. The petite brunette jumped back once more.

The Draugr reared his head in frustration. Unable to physically match Santana's speed, his jaw dislodged and he opened his mouth once more. Santana's eyes widened as she recognized the move. The air around the burial chamber dropped by degrees as he once again drew on ancient magicka. Santana quickly sought a way to defend herself.

The standard of Whiterun lay abandoned only a few feet away. Never fond of Whiterun's rather blase approach to politics, Santana had no time to reconsider her options. She launched her body across the stone. Her knees scrapped the hard surface and her armor jostled from the impact. The Overlord released ancient words carried on magickally imbued frost that split the air. Santana reached the horse and lifted the shield in time to block the attack. She stayed low behind the rim of steel which encircled the symbol of Whiterun. Chips of frost bit into the wood of the shield and splinters flew past Santana's face, but the horse held against the Draugr's brutal assault.

Santana's heart was pounding. She didn't know how much longer she would last against a foe like this.

Her dark eyes dared to glance back.

_Each footstep made the pounding increase. Each breath echoed the cries of long dead warriors and creatures unknown. The markings on the stone shimmered so radiantly they cast everything else in the crypt out of focus. The edges of her vision blurred - except the markings. They looked like deep cuts in the wall. They should have been indecipherable. But they felt so familiar. Brittany stretched her hand out. The lights enveloped her fingers._

_And she knew. _

_Or maybe it knew her._

_The word transferred from the stone and chiseled its power in her heart. _

_The room was spinning._

_Her breath shortened. _

_The blurred edges expanded. _

_What was happening?_

With one swing, he shattered the shield of Whiterun. Wood splintered into the air and cut into her wrists around her guards. Pieces of wood dug into her fingers. She was out of breath and barely managed to get her sword up in time to stop a life ending blow to her neck. Santana defended again and again. He was slowly chipping away at the space between them.

The Overlord lifted his sword once more.

She would die a warrior. With the last of her strength, she thrust her sword forward. Her whole body drove the blade.

It stopped.

Skeletal hands clutched the sword and held it completely still. Santana struggled to release the Overlord's grip, but he was too strong.

His free hand darted to her unprotected throat. The icy touch of his grasp sent uncontrollable shivers coursing through her body. Santana kicked at his chest and jerked at the sword, but to no avail. His grip tightened as he lifted her from the ground. She released the hilt of the sword and batted at his wrists trying to break free. Her feet dangled and kicked suspended in the air.

Air.

She sucked in another breath, but was obstructed by his skeletal clutch.

Air.

It was getting harder. Santana finally gave up trying to fight his grip. She reached up. His grip tightened. He was crushing her windpipe. If she could just-

air.

-release-

air

air

air

_She should have been more confused. She had no idea what was happening, but it felt so right. Brittany could feel the word on the stone living inside of her. Its power coursed through every fiber of her being. Her blurred vision suddenly expanded and covered every inch of the burial chamber in brilliant lights. Her vision sharpened, but she only saw one thing. _

_Santana. _

_She didn't know what she was doing or if she understood what was going on, but the word inside her pounded against her rib cages and filled her lungs. It had to be released. The word pressed against her insides and all the power that had been contained inside of her bellowed out in an unrelenting force of power._

_**"Fus!"**_

A powerful gust of air swept through the crypt and cracked the stone floor all the way across the platform in their direction. Santana managed to close her eyes right as Brittany's attack collided with the Draugr. It sent them both flying through the air. She hit the side of the tomb. The shock of the impact and her lack of oxygen prevented her from making a successful attempt to stand. She sucked in gulps of air. Her vision was hazy and her head was swimming. She could taste blood in her mouth and blood dripping down her forehead.

What in Talos name had Brittany done?

Struggling, Santana raised her head to watch the blonde fight. Brittany had closed the gap to the Overlord and brandished her axe. Their weapons clashed. They both jumped back only to attack each other once more. Another gale of force swept through the corridor. The Overlord staggered backward and dropped his defense for a moment. Brittany took advantage and pressed. Her swing broke through his weak defense. The blade cut through his armor and appeared to hurt him more than any of Santana's attacks. How was Brittany able to weaken the Overlord when Santana could barely agitate him?

Brittany opened her mouth and Shouted the same word. "_**Fus!**_"

No. It couldn't be. Santana shook her head in disbelief. It couldn't be true and it couldn't be this woman. A lump caught in her throat. Another wave of power rocked the crypt from Brittany's Shout. It shouldn't be possible and yet with every Shout, Santana couldn't deny what Brittany was.

How could she have been so foolish? Brittany hadn't said Dovekin.

Another Shout burst through the crypt.

_Dovahkiin_

The Overlord dropped to a knee after the last fury from Brittany's advance. Without hesitation, Brittany grunted as she heaved the blade of her axe into the exposed portion of the Overlord's neck. The axe stuck. She twisted. The snap of bone echoed. The unnatural icy eyes of the Draugr dimmed and finally extinguished. Brittany wrenched her weapon free and stood up straight over the dead body. She was panting hard from the exertion. She looked over to Santana.

For the first time since they had crossed blades, Brittany's expression was guarded. She was unsure of Santana. Even more so, Brittany was unsure of herself. The pinch of her shoulders and the lines in her forehead revealed the bubbling tension she had been hiding. Her bright blue eyes contrasted drastically from the malicious cold of their defeated foe. There were emotions Santana had never expected racing through Brittany's expression. She was waiting for Santana.

Santana opened her mouth but no words came out.

And then she saw what Brittany had been guarding so fiercely in her eyes - fear.

* * *

Behind the great stone etched wall where Brittany had read the ancient word Fus, they had found a staircase built into the stone. They walked in silence. Each of them nursed wounds and injuries. Some were quite visible. Others had been buried. They took their time. It felt like the danger had passed and they would be able to leave the crypt without further incidence.

Brittany had long released her axe and pressed against the walls for help standing. Her body felt drained and tired from the fighting and from Shouting. It wasn't the first time she had unleashed the dragon language, but she still hadn't become accustomed to the power. Worse, she hadn't become accustomed to other people's reactions.

Santana hadn't said a word.

She didn't have to.

Brittany had seen the look in her face after she Shouted.

Perhaps they should have parted earlier. It would have avoided this strange tension between them.

The staircase ended and opened to a small cutout in the underground. There was nowhere to go. No door or lock and key. Brittany glanced to the floor to check for pressure plates like the ones in the trap corridor. Nothing.

How could they move forward?

Brittany dared to glance back at Santana. The dark haired warrior was pacing. Her boots clicked on the stone at an agitated rate. Apparently, she was unconcerned they were trapped in the crypt. She had other things on her mind. She kept her head down. Her conflicted thoughts shown in the creases on her face and the lines of her brows. She was wrestling with herself and whether she should finally say the word that had been gnawing at her since she saw Brittany Shout.

Without decorum, Santana blurted out. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?" Brittany asked trying to feign innocence. She knew exactly why Santana had been acting so strangely since she had defeated the Overlord.

Santana's dark eyes darted up and made blistering contact. "That you're the Dovahkiin."

A sharp wind swept through the chamber. A shiver ran down her body. Brittany hung her head. She hadn't come to terms with being the Dovahkiin herself. It happened too fast and she hadn't had time to properly process. It all still felt like a dream.

Weakly, she protested. "I did."

"No. You said Dovekin." Santana bit fiercely into Brittany's defense.

"I mean...they're kinda close."

"Kinda close?" Santana rolled her eyes. What was she doing? This was the _the_ Dovahkiin. There had been rumors all through the city. Someone had been summoned. Even worse, there had been rumors circulating about a dragon in Helgen. There were reports of dragons from the far south and the east. Santana just hadn't expected any of them to be true. Civil war was brewing. Armies were gathering. Dragons and Dovahkiins were meant to inspire more paranoia and fear in the people. They weren't supposed to be real.

By Talos and the Divines, they weren't supposed to be real.

Brittany wasn't supposed to be real.

Santana shook her head in anger. "You made a fool of me."

"It wasn't my-"

"You read the dragon language on the word wall. That's why you came into the crypt. You knew exactly what you were looking for. You lied to me. You used the Thu'um. You Shouted. You defeated that Overlord like it was nothing." Santana quickly interjected. Her head was still spinning. "And you made me call you Dovekin like an idiot!"

"Santana, I didn't know how to say it." Brittany tried to defend herself. "And I didn't know if I should tell you because of this – I didn't know how you'd react. I don't know how anyone would react. I don't know how to react myself!" Brittany shrugged and sighed. "It's all so new. I don't know what I'm doing. I didn't even know there was a 'word wall' or whatever you called it or what Thu'um is. I've never really Shouted before – not like that. It just came out. I don't even know if I could do it again."

But she could.

Brittany felt the word inside her chest waiting to fill her lungs.

"You didn't know about the word wall?"

"No." Brittany answered truthfully.

"And you used the Thu'um, but don't even know that's what the dragon language is called?"

"I guess." Brittany rubbed at her arm and pushed back her hair. Every question made Brittany feel like the real fool. Santana knew more about Brittany than Brittany knew about herself. "I wasn't trying to play you for a fool. I really had no idea why I was sent down here. I didn't know I would find that word-" She could still feel the residual power from the wall coursing through her body. "-I'm sorry if I misled you."

Santana swallowed hard and turned away. She closed her eyes. It still didn't make any sense. She had so many questions and thoughts, but all she could think of was the implications. By all the Divines, she had not expected this when she travelled after the thieves. What was she going to do? What could she do? Should she part with Brittany now knowing what and who she was? Brittany had misled her before, how could Santana trust her again?

Whatever had transpired between them in the few hours they had spent together, Brittany felt inexplicably drawn to her companion. They would have to part now. There could be no recourse. Withholding her identity had been a poor decision around a woman like Santana.

"If it makes you feel better, you can still call me Dovekin." Brittany suggested with a nervous smile.

Santana had been so focused on her own thoughts, that when she heard Brittany's suggestion, she could hardly believe the words. "Still call you Dovekin?" It was so simple. She rolled her eyes. It cut through her deep thoughts and conflicting emotions. Before she could keep a hold onto her anger, a smile stole all her fury. Santana glanced up. Brittany's eyes were open. They were begging for a second chance. They were so soft and asking for something Santana couldn't quite identify. But the tug in her chest told Santana that she would be willing to give Brittany whatever she wanted. Was it possible to regret a decision before it was made?

What in Talos's name was she doing?

Santana said nothing aloud, but turned away.

When Santana refused to respond, Brittany cocked her head in confusion. Did this mean they were okay?

Santana moved to the torch on the wall at the end of the staircase. A metal chain dangled from the holder. She yanked on it once. The holder released. The wall that had blocked their passage forward groaned and parted to reveal a secret door. Brittany's eyes darted from the door to the chain to Santana in disbelief. "How did you know to do that?"

"You should be related to birds. You couldn't find your way out of here without me."

"So does this mean we're good now?"

Santana lifted her head, full of pride and unbendable will. "I'm not sure what we are."

"But we are something?" A glimmer of hope lined the blonde's voice.

"We'll see, Dovekin."

The sides of Brittany's smile brightened and her eyes widened. Santana rolled her eyes once more and tried not to share Brittany's genuine enthusiasm. She had no clue what she was doing, but this was bigger than her pride or – Brittany's flashed another smile before she turned to continue down the corridor- the way she couldn't help returning Brittany's smile.

_Dovahkiin_

Santana couldn't forget how powerful Brittany's Shout had thrown her and the Overlord.

_Dovahkiin_

Rumors of dragons, civil war, and the Dovahkiin was a woman who didn't know the difference between a torch holder and a door opener.

She followed behind the blonde through the last corridor. The winds around them had shifted once more. The air tasted sweeter and the bitter cold seemed fresher. The corridor inclined to another opening. Moonlight filtered through cracks in the stone and where the angle could hit the hallway perfectly. Eventually the torches grew further and further apart until they stopped. Natural light guided their footsteps. As they broke through the cavern to a back door of the crypt, the moonlight enveloped their bodies.

Brittany broke through stone door first. With no regard to their surroundings or if there could be danger, she emerged from the crypt carefree and laughing.

Santana watched with rapt fascination. Brittany tossed the half-helm from her head to the snow on the ground. Her blonde hair whipped around in the wind and her smile rivaled the moon for brightness. Santana swallowed hard. She lingered at the stone overhang where they had emerged from the depths of the crypt. Just like she graced over stone and bones, Brittany's steps in the snow were unhindered. They were light and fleeting. She barely made a mark in the fresh powder of snow on the mountainside. Her axe dropped to the snow followed by her pack and her belt. Her light steel gauntlets settled onto the ground. Brittany's shoulders rolled with ease now that she had freed herself from most of her armaments. The straps of her breastplate loosened. Her fingers tugged at knots. Santana wondered if Brittany consciously knew what she was doing. Even if she did know she was disarming, Santana had a feeling Brittany didn't care. All her motions seemed so natural. The urge to join her grew stronger. What would it feel like to just take it all off and dance in the moonlight after an excursion into the depths of Skyrim's darkest pits?

Santana remained against the stone. Her arms crossed with the weight of the world while Brittany tilted her head up to the sky.

"It feels like we've been in there for days." Brittany noticed her companion hadn't joined her. Not one to shy away, Brittany quirked an inquisitive eye brow in Santana's direction. Teasing, she suggested. "Unless you liked it down there."

"I'm just as pleased to get away from the stench of corpses and urns as you are."

"Then why aren't you out here celebrating with me?" Brittany smiled and took another step away from the overhang.

"I'm enjoying the view from here." Santana said without thinking. Brittany's eyes focused sharply for the first time since they had exited the crypt. A tinge of red graced Santana's cheeks; she quickly added. "It's not often one gets to see a caged bird go free."

Santana's response must have pleased her companion. Blonde hair flew back into the wind as Brittany laughed to the two moons above them. For some reason, Santana felt pleased her answer had amused Brittany so much. The red in her cheeks grew darker. She attempted to cover her good mood by shifting her attention to a task. "It's too dark to make our way down the mountain. We might as well set up camp here and we can decide what we will do in the morning."

The mention of morning reminded them both that their paths were to lead different ways. Crestfallen, Brittany nodded and started to gather her belongings from the ground. Santana hadn't meant to stop Brittany's good humor, but they couldn't dance around on the mountain all night. Frostbite was only the beginning for an unprepared traveler exposed to the elements during Skyrim's freezing nights. One could quickly deteriorate even on a night as beautiful as this. They moved efficiently with little room for words between them. Santana didn't say much. Brittany was quick to pick up body language and anticipate Santana's needs before she vocalized them. She had gathered a sizeable stack of dry wood from the mountainside. Santana had unrolled her pack and pulled out a spare bedding from her gear for Britt. The fire underneath the overhang created a warm haven. Santana poked at the embers and added another piece of kindling. The fire wouldn't be going out anytime soon. There was no game this far up the mountain and she hadn't seen traces of small animals. The only food they could share was dried meat and cheese she had packed. It was better than nothing.

Brittany had been gone for longer this time.

Curious, Santana stood from the fire and pulled her cloak tight around her shoulders. It had only grown darker. Late at night, the moonlight did a poor job illuminating the dark mountainside. A few paces away, Santana spotted her mysterious companion standing. Her eyes were turned up to the night sky. Santana slowed her steps. Brittany was no longer dancing or reveling in freedom. This was intimate. Cautious of disturbing Brittany's thoughts, Santana approached as quietly as possible. The wind whipped around the edge of her cloak as if to ward her away from Brittany, but Santana ignored its chilling bite.

As Santana stood abreast of Brittany, she noticed Brittany had already been smiling. Obviously Brittany had heard her approach. Chagrined for trying to be stealthy, Santana asked. "What are you doing out here? I have the fire going and a bit of food. Nothing fresh, but it will take the chill off."

Brittany didn't turn away from the sky. Her eyes were drawn to the blinking lights. "I was just admiring the stars."

"And you can't admire the stars normally?" Santana rolled her eyes. "What? They don't have stars from where you're from?"

"Sure we have stars, but they seem closer from here." Brittany's smile had yet to dim. She pointed up. Unable to help herself, Santana followed her finger. "And some stars seem brighter tonight than they ever have."

"What do you mean?"

"Well there-" She found the star she had been gazing upon intently. "-that's the base of the two-handed great sword. It's the first time I've been able to see it clearly. I think it must be an omen or a sign that I did well with my axe today."

Santana scoffed and shook her head. "Please tell me you don't believe those old wives tales that you can increase your skills just by looking at the sky."

"Wives tales?" Shocked at Santana's careless dismissal of the stars, Brittany broke away from the sky to face her companion. "My mother once told me that everything we have to learn, we can learn from the stars. Have you never traced your life in the sky?"

"No. I have no need. I learned all I need to know from _proper_ instruction with a blade. I certainly didn't learn from standing out in the middle of the cold night and waving my fingers through the air like a madman." Santana pulled her cloak closer and pursed her lips, but immediately stopped. The Overlord had split her lip with a nasty backhand to her face during the fight. It hurt to even talk. "It would, however, explain your strange way of handling a blade and your unorthodox fighting technique if you learned how to fight from playing astronomer instead of actually learning how to fight."

Brittany ignored Santana's light jabs. Instead, she smiled softly. "Do you know where the bow and arrow rest?"

"Of course." Santana puffed out a sigh of agitation at the simple question. "It lies next to the one-handed sword." She pointed to the visible stars of the bow without thought. Every child of Skyrim knew the constellations and their placement.

Brittany smiled. "Remember when you shot that thief, Brennah, in the middle of that skirmish with the Draugr? That took a great deal of skill I wish I possessed with a bow. I've never been able to find those stars. Thank you for showing them to me."

"It doesn't mean anything."

"Perhaps." Brittany shrugged undeterred by Santana's skepticism. "But maybe I won't be such a poor shot the next time I try."

Santana didn't know whether she should admire Brittany's blind faith or question her strange outdated beliefs. "I doubt you could stand still long enough to string a bow, much less fire one." The side of Santana's mouth pulled back in a smirk. Brittany turned and caught the indent of her dimples and the light of the stars reflecting in Santana's eyes. "I don't know about you, but I'd rather eat something and sit next to a fire than spend my night gazing at the stars."

"You don't know what you're missing."

"I'll take my chances. Have fun with your stars." Santana threw her hands up dramatically as if she were done with Brittany's foolishness.

Brittany caught her right hand.

Santana stopped.

The worn leather gloves protecting Brittany's hand felt smooth against Santana's bare skin. Her eyes darted up. Once again Brittany took liberties Santana didn't relinquish easily. Her voice cracked. "What are you doing?"

"You're injured." Brittany stated as if it was obvious why they should be touching at this moment. She quickly shed her gloves. Warmth spread through her fingers. Brittany batted her eyes and tried not to say out loud what her whole body knew. Santana was warm, indescribably warm.

"I wouldn't have been so injured if my companion hadn't been stone gazing." Santana fidgeted in Brittany's grasp. She could feel the tiny cuts the splinted shield had ripped into her hand and forearms. Santana could barely feel the cuts, not when Brittany was holding her hand so tenderly. "Star gazing – stone gazing, seems to be a problem with you –" She paused. Her pride had still not recovered from Brittany's deception. Stubbornly, she called her. "-Dovekin."

"I didn't mean to leave you to battle by yourself. I had little control over what I was doing." But she had total control over what she was doing now. Light blossomed beneath Brittany's fingers and spread from her hands to Santana. Magicka flowed between them. It felt stronger; the strength of flow more even than before. The small cuts mended. The torn skin and abrasions up and down her arms lightened in color and eventually faded away completely.

But she wasn't done yet.

Brittany took a step closer. Her fingers retained the healing glow. She brushed the back of her hand against Santana's cheek. The cut on her forehead lessened and healed completely. Like before, a wave of rejuvenation washed over Santana's body. Brittany found Santana's eyes and cupped her chin. There was something so familiar in their dark depths. It was as if she had known Santana since the creation of Nirn. She felt the wind that had been guiding her journey beat against their bodies like a warning, a call away from Santana's eyes, but Brittany ignored the tug and pull.

The softest gasp escaped Santana's lips as Brittany's thumb drew across her mouth. The cut in her lip tingled as Brittany's magicka reconnected the soft tissue and pulsed beneath the surface of her skin. The connection between them strengthened and Santana's breathing shortened. She didn't know when Brittany stopped the healing, but eventually she realized Brittany's fingers were no longer glowing, but they also hadn't moved away. The calloused pad of Brittany's thumb ran along Santana's smooth lips.

A shudder ran down the back of Santana's neck at the prolonged contact.

"Thank you – " Each word brought a new sensation as her lips moved against Brittany's thumb. A shiver of excitement and anticipation reverberated through her body as she said her name. "-Brittany."

Brittany's smile was softer at the sound of her name from Santana's lips. She pulled back with reluctance.

"Tomorrow-" Santana blurted out. Softer, she repeated. "Tomorrow, when we part, do you return to the one who sent you here?"

The wind pushed at her cloak harder and harder. Brittany didn't have to turn into the darkness to know if she squinted hard enough, she would see the outline of a distant mountain calling her back.

"Yes."

Santana nodded before Brittany had finished the word. She had known the answer, but it didn't settle well with the warrior.

"Perhaps you'd be inclined to join me until I reach my family's house. They would be insulted if they could not thank the woman who helped me retrieve the dragon claw." Santana's heart beat faster the more she talked. "I promise it won't delay you for very long."

The wind howled and picked up speed.

Brittany could feel nothing but the invitation in Santana's offer.

"I would be honored." She was smiling brighter than she had when they exited the backside of the mountain. "I doubt a quick stop to your house will delay me too much."

Any delay with Santana would be worth it.

* * *

**End 1.2**


End file.
